


the fire below

by smolstiel



Series: Boyking!Sam Drabbles [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Gen, Gore, Hell, Hurt Dean Winchester, Sam is Hell, this is one thing im very proud of, too much imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-13 16:05:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16021331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolstiel/pseuds/smolstiel
Summary: Inspired by that quote from Meg in Born a Bad Sign.I think this was written for the Boyking Sam Discord Server, but I can't find the prompt.





	the fire below

The ground was too soft. Too soft, and prickly-warm, and a pulse shivered through the air. A smooth inhale-exhale created a cool wind one direction, and then a hot breeze the other. As Dean's gaze traveled upward, he found spires of twisted, living flesh, a mountain of sorts, a river of blood coiling down its side, structures of bones visible under the quivering skin. At the top was a throne. Silhouetted by the much brighter red glow, from the blood, from light inside the very flesh, or perhaps outside it, filtering through like sun through the thin delicacy of closed eyelids. 

“The fuck’d you do to the place, Sammy?” Dean asked bluntly. 

The figure on the throne did not stir. Leaning back and regarding Dean with vague curiosity, the kind given to captured insects under a magnifying glass. The only thing visible on his shadowed person were yellow eyes, and a sharp curve of a glinting smirk. 

“Me?” The voice was smooth as silk, the motions sensual as the man shifted on his ivory throne, kicking his long legs over one arm and throwing back his head until his face was in the light, grinning a lazy smile. It was Sam's features, if sharper, if cleaner. Or maybe it was just a trick of the reddish light, of the glowing eyes. He should look childish like this, half-upside down, one leg higher than his head, one arm draped over the edge, fingers dragging against the bloody ground. The pure carnal lines of his body destroyed that image. Even clothed in spotless white above and crisp black below, every angle was emphasized, every muscle standing out in stark relief. A sneer. "Come on, Dean. Hell isn’t complicated. You know what this is.” 

Dean shivered at the _look_ he was getting. Sam looked like he was going to start batting him around like a mouse at any moment. “Enlighten me,” he barked, unwilling to be cowed. 

Sam laughed. 

The world shook, and Dean stumbled, fell, rolled. Covered his ears and cowered from the weight of heat and motion. He felt sick bubbling in the back of his throat, and his nausea wasn’t about the sudden earthquake. 

“ _I’m_ Hell,” said Sam, and it roared all around him. “And _you_ did this to me.” 

Hell was made of flesh and bone and blood and fear, and every inch of it was Sam Winchester.


End file.
